Firefly Mix
by JayneDancing
Summary: Old Gen. drabbles crossposted for completeness, fluffy to grim, please check warnings. Canon pairings. WARNING CHAPTER 3 "DIRT" CONTAINS A CHARACTER DEATH.
1. Clarity

**Title: **Clarity  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Firefly  
><strong>Character:<strong> River Tam  
><strong>Rating: <strong>Universal  
><strong>Prompt:<strong>Clear  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine, I recieved no money, I have no money, so suing is pointless.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Not Beta'd  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for the Firefly 100.

Clarity

River woke up.

Everything was quiet.

**_Everyone _**was quiet_._

Simon's latest combination of drugs had an unexpected side effect. Just before they wore off all the babbling voices, colours, images and _pressure _would switch off. Just for a little while the only person in her head would be _her_, all her thoughts would hop along neatly, one after the other, clear as a bell, no clutter.

The record was three hours, four minutes and thirty-six seconds.

That was a really, _really_ good day.

She got up and went to the cargo bay.

Did a little dance.

Just her.

All alone.


	2. Fall

**Fandom:** Firefly  
><strong>Title:<strong> Fall  
><strong>Characters:<strong> River, Zoe, ?  
><strong>Rating:<strong> Universal  
><strong>Word count:<strong> 100  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> They ain't mine, if they were I would have enough money to make me worth suing, at the moment I'm potless.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Notes:<strong>This oozes sentimentality, but I don't care.

Fall

River ran into the cargo bay, grabbed Zoe's wrist and tugged her out of the ship.

She pointed, "Look, look!"

They'd set _Serenity_ down in a wide clearing, it was a rare autumn day, sky clear and hot as high summer.

A swirl of wind was making the fallen leaves dance. They'd go spiralling up, hover, tip and spin, then rock their way to earth as soft as babies kisses.

River danced around the edges, skirts swirling.

Zoe stepped closer, put her face up to the warm sun and felt the leaves patter down.

Like lovers fingers on her skin.


	3. Dirt (WARNING CHARACTER DEATH)

**Warnings:** **CHARACTER DEATH. **Not beta'd.

**Fandom:** Firefly  
><strong>PromptTitle:** "Dirt" for the Firefly 100  
><strong>Wordcount:<strong> 200  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine, no money, suing pointless.

Dirt 

Dizzy with fever and racking with coughs River trod lightly over the dusty soil.

Serenity was dirt bound, part of a quarantine order. Alliance people walked around in orange suits and dealt quickly and efficiently with the dead.

The air was tested, the water, the plants, the animals.

Nothing.

She caught the man in charge by the arm. "Ate a bushel of dirt before they died," she giggled at the wary lack of understanding in his eyes as he pulled away. Fever made it more impossible than usual to be articulate and the Alliance hadn't sent a particularly skilled scientist. This was a barely viable habitat, only the hardy and poor came here.

What to do? She scooped a handful of soil into her hand and carried it carefully to the nearest Alliance worker, flipped off his helmet and rammed the dirt into his face.

When he got sick they investigated the soil and found the virus. It was Simon, barely ill yet, who identified the correct treatment.

They finally let him treat River, in the Alliance ships brig, strapped into a straight jacket and treated like dirt.

Which was what he got to bury her in, three days later.


	4. Zoe's Repulsive Rules for surviving the

**WARNINGS: **Bizarre use of bodily fluids, if this will induce squick, please do not proceed. Not beta'd

**Fandom:** Firefly  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> "Right" for the Firefly 100  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Mal, Zoe  
><strong>Timeline: <strong>Early Unification War, pre-series.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG for grossness and a bad word or two.  
><strong>Word count:<strong> 300  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine, not paid, please don't sue

**Zoë's repulsive rules for surviving the army part one.**

"IF-YOU-_**AIN'T**_-THE-_**SORRIEST**_-SACKS-OF-_**GO-SE**_-I-EVER-HAD-THE- MISFORTUNE-TA-TRAIN!"

The sorry sacks of shit sagged, every last one while the abuse washed over them. Young Malcolm Reynolds was somewhere in the front row, his eyes on the soft, comfortable dirt of the parade ground, as appealing at that moment as a feather bed. He felt his knees sag a little more, felt his eyelids sliding shut…

"DO IT AGAIN!" So much for getting a little shut eye. "BY THE RIGHT! QU-ICK **MARCH**!"

His boots squished with sweat and blood from his blisters, but he did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until they all got it right.

Flat out across his bunk fully dressed with the verse spinning behind his eyelids he was more than a little peeved when someone slapped him across the cheek. He opened his eyes to a woman's face. First time he'd ever seen _cold_ brown eyes.

"Get your boots off else you'll lose skin come morning."

Malcolm nearly told her to do something biologically impossible, but she had stripes on her arm, so he grudgingly sat up.

She watched him critically as he unlaced his boots and pulled them off, wincing.

"Boot leather's too hard," she explained. "Gotta soften them else your feet'll tear up n' rot out from under you in the trenches. Folks die from it. "

Malcolm blinked, "How'd I do that Sir-Ma'am?"

The Corporal didn't seem bothered by his struggles with honorifics. "Piss in 'em, n' leave it over night." She turned away to attend to someone else.

Malcolm looked at the soldier on the next bunk. "She's kidding, right?"

The boy shook his head "Nope, Corporal Alleyne don't joke."

Malcolm looked from his boots to his feet and back again, "Huh."

Before going to sleep he pinned a note to his boots, "Empty and rinse before wearing."

**Autors note:**

Spike Milligan was given this horrible, horrible advice by someone called Busty Roberts. Mr Milligan mentions it in "Adolf Hitler, My Part in his Downfall." He also said that it worked.

All together now... "EW!"


End file.
